


Storms

by RandomSlasher (Randomslasher)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:52:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomslasher/pseuds/RandomSlasher
Summary: Logic meets a new trait during a thunderstorm.





	Storms

Logic was getting himself a glass of water from the kitchen sink when he heard it. 

He supposed it wasn’t surprising he’d missed it at first: though it was late and the interior of the commons was quiet, there was a storm rumbling outside in the mindscape, and the combined sounds of the thunder and the rain had effectively masked the quiet sobbing before. 

But he could hear it now. He frowned, setting his glass of water aside and walking back into the darkened commons. There, he paused, listening, and--

A flash of lightning revealed a lump on the couch, hidden beneath the quilt. It was moving a little, and after the accompanying boom of thunder, Logic heard the soft, terrified whimpers coming from beneath it. 

He frowned, pushing his glasses up on his nose. 

“Who is there, please?” he asked clearly and carefully. 

The blankets froze and the sobbing stopped abruptly.

“There’s no use trying to hide,” Logic informed the blankets. “I already saw you moving and heard you crying so I know you’re there.”  


[[MORE]]

The lump of blankets shifted, and after a second, a small face peeked reluctantly out from beneath the edge, skin pale and eyes very wide. 

Logic frowned, tilting his head. “I don’t know you,” he remarked, stepping into the living room. “Are you a new trait?” 

The figure retreated into the blankets but didn’t hide away completely again. Logic climbed up onto the couch beside him, and the trait watched him warily, a shock of dark hair falling over his eyes. 

“My name is Logic,” Logic said. He puffed his chest proudly, he added, “I’m Thomas’s rational thought and reasoning. That means I’m the smartest of the traits.” Then, recalling what Dad had taught him about bragging and modesty, he added, “But I’m sure you do something important too. Who are you?”   


The new trait blinked at him, opening his mouth, but another flash of lightning and the accompanying crash of thunder made him cry out and throw the blankets over his head again. 

Logic looked out the window, then frowned. He leaned forward and lifted the edge of the blanket, peeking in, and saw the smaller boy had covered his face and was crying again. 

“Hey,” Logic said. “It can’t hurt you. It’s outside. And anyway it’s just sound.”   


The new trait looked up at him, and finally spoke, his voice high and frightened and just a trace sullen. “I don’t like it.”

“Well, that’s illogical of you. It’s not doing anything bad.”   


“It’s loud and scary,” the other trait insisted. “What if it makes the house fall down? What if the lightning hits me?”   


Logic frowned and tilted his head. He’d never thought about that, but...but now that he did, it still didn’t make sense. “The house won’t fall down because of noise,” he said slowly, thinking it through. “I don’t think noise can hurt a house. And the lightning can’t hit us while we’re inside, so you’re safe. Besides,” he added, sitting up straight and pushing his glasses up a bit again (they had a habit of sliding down his nose; Dad said he’d grow into them but it was annoying right now). “The storms here aren’t really real. They’re just a reflection of Thomas’s brain learning to think about something new. It’s how the mind makes space for new stuff. It happened when Creativity arrived.” 

“Creativity?”   


“Yeah. That’s one of the other traits.” Logic’s eyes widened. “Hey!” he said. “I bet this storm’s for you! You just got here, right? I haven’t seen you before, so you must be new. Right?”   


The other boy shrugged. “I guess so.” 

“What’s your name? What do you do?”   


The trait looked up at him and shook his head. 

“You mean you don’t know yet?” Logic frowned. That seemed...well, odd, but just because he’d never heard of it happening before didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. 

The other trait shrank back at his frown, then cried out when another flash of lighting split the sky. 

Logic blinked, bewildered. He’d already explained that the storm couldn’t hurt him, so why was he still afraid? It didn’t make sense. Maybe he needed to explain better? 

He scooted in under the covers with the frightened boy and said, slowly and clearly, “The storm is not bad. Logically it cannot hurt you. Therefore, there is no reason to be afraid of it.” 

The pale boy glowered at him. “I’m not stupid, you know,” he said. “You already told me all of that.” 

“Then why are you still afraid?” Logic was taken aback. Because as illogically as the new boy was behaving, Logic could see he was right: there _was_ a spark of intelligence in his dark eyes. He _wasn’t_  stupid. So why...?   


“I don’t know.” The other boy shrugged, still glaring, and looked down. “I can know it won’t hurt me and still be afraid.”   


“But that doesn’t make sense.”   


“Well, maybe _I_  just don’t make sense, then,” the boy snapped, and Logic could see the tears starting again in his dark eyes.   


Uh oh. This was clearly going to be another emotional trait like Dad and Creativity. Logic bit his lip, then tried a change of tactics. Maybe, if he couldn’t help reason away his fear, he could distract him from it, instead. 

“I’m sure you will make sense eventually,” he said. “You are still new. Sometimes things are...confusing when you’re new.”   


Which, okay, they hadn’t been for him--he’d known exactly who and what he was the moment he’d arrived--but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be confusing for this new trait. Who was _still_  cowering beneath the covers, Logic realized, and the tears that had welled in his eyes were now trickling slowly down his cheeks. 

 _Uh oh._  Logan thought quickly. _What would Dad do?_

“Would...would you like me to hug you?” he offered hesitantly after a few moments.

The boy looked away from the window and frowned at him. “Hug?” 

“Yes. It’s something Dad does sometimes,” Logic explained. When the new trait continued to regard him warily, he said, “It doesn’t hurt. Dad says it can make you feel better.” 

The other boy rolled his eyes. “I _know_ what a hug is.”

“Oh. Then why did you ask?”   


The boy shrugged, picking at the frayed edge of the quilt. “I dunno.” 

“Okay...” Logic blinked. This new trait was going to be very difficult to understand, he could tell that already. 

But that was okay. Logic liked a challenge. 

“So...do you want one or not?” he asked eventually. “A hug, I mean,” he clarified, when the new trait looked at him.   


The boy shrugged. 

Well. He’d tried. “Okay. Well, I’m still tired and rest is important, so I think I’ll go to bed. If--”

“Wait!”   


Logic paused from where he’d been poised, about to slide off the couch.

“I mean...I guess it’d be okay. If you want to.” 

Logic arched his eyebrows. 

“The...the hug thing, I mean.” The boy was mumbling now and his face was beet red. Interesting.   


Logic filed his observations away for future analysis and nodded, sliding in closer. He wrapped his arms around the other boy’s shoulders and squeezed, counting to three in his mind, then let go and sat back. “There,” he said. “Did that help?” 

The boy shrugged again, though Logic could see his cheeks were still a little bit pink. “I guess it wasn’t that bad.” 

“I told you so,” Logic said. Then, “I was getting a glass of water. Do you want one?”   


The trait shrugged and nodded, and Logan led him into the kitchen. Outside the storm was waning, settling a little, though the distant rumble of thunder still made the new trait look around anxiously. When one louder _boom_  rolled across the sky, he yelped and burrowed in close to Logan’s side, hiding his face against his back. 

Logic reached back and wrapped an awkward arm around the boy. “Don’t be afraid,” he said again softly, pressing a glass of water into the boy’s trembling fingers. “Change doesn’t have to be scary.” 

The boy took the glass, but his eyes were wide as he gazed at Logic. “What if I’m still scared?” he whispered. 

Logic thought about it for a moment, and said, “Then you can come to me.” 

“To you?”   


“Yes.” Logic nodded firmly. It made sense. “Any time you’re scared. You can tell me what you’re scared of and we can figure it out together. Then we can figure out if you really need to be scared. And if not...” He shrugged, and made a face. “I’ll give you a hug or something.”   


The new trait giggled, and Logic looked at him in surprise, then smiled, too. Huh. Maybe it wasn’t just Dad who could do this comforting thing. 

“Are you done?” he asked, after the new trait had taken several big gulps of water and was now staring at the empty glass.   


“Yes.” The new trait handed him the glass and waited, watching, while Logic rinsed it out. Logic filled it and took several big gulps himself, then rinsed it again and put it in the drainer. When he turned around, the boy was still watching him, so he said, “Do you have a bedroom yet?” 

The boy shrugged, then nodded. 

“Good. Do you want to go back to bed?”   


For some reason, this made the boy look up at him in alarm. “By myself?” 

“Well...yes, usually.”

“I don’t...” the boy’s eyes were filling; outside, the storm appeared to be picking up again. _Hmm_. “I don’t want to be by myself. I’m...I’m scared.”   


“Oh.” Logic frowned. “Well...maybe...I could go get my blanket and we could both sleep on the couch?”   


The new trait looked relieved, and the wind that had begun to howl outside eased into a gentle patter of rain instead. “Okay,” he said, nodding. 

Logic beamed to himself. He really _was_  good at comforting! He’d have to tell Creativity tomorrow; the royal trait always insisted that Logic was a robot, but robots weren’t comforting, and he’d just comforted a new trait _twice_. 

He hurried upstairs long enough to grab his pillow and blanket. He hesitated over his Albert Einstein plush doll for a moment, then shook his head, turning away from it firmly. He didn’t need Albie tonight. Tonight, _he_  was the grown-up, and grown-ups didn’t need dolls. 

He bounded back downstairs, and together he and the new trait piled the blankets and pillows onto the couch. Then Logic lay back on his back and patted the cushion next to himself. “Come on, then.”

The new trait crawled forward shyly and curled up next to him, laying his head on Logic’s shoulder. Logic blinked in surprise, then patted his head awkwardly then tugged the blanket up over both of them. 

“Goodnight--erm--” he paused again, remembering he didn’t know the new trait’s name.   


“Anxiety.”   


Logic started. “Anxiety?” he repeated. 

The boy nodded, looking up at him in growing worry. “Yes?” 

“Oh. It’s...it’s just...Anxiety is...it’s usually a bad thing. I’m surprised Thomas would need a whole trait for...” he trailed off, realizing that Anxiety had drawn away and was now gazing at him in horror, fresh tears on his cheeks.  


“I’m...I’m _bad_?” he whispered.   


“No, no!” Logic kicked himself mentally. And he’d been doing so well! “No, not at all. I--I said _usually_. There’s...um...there’s a very special kind of anxiety that is actually _good_.”   


Anxiety frowned at him suspiciously. “Really?” he said. “You’re not just making that up?” 

“No,” Logic insisted. And as he thought it through, he realized he _wasn’t._ It made sense. “I’m really not. There’s...there’s the kind of anxiety that makes sure you brush your teeth because you’re afraid of getting cavities. Or the kind that makes sure you look both ways before crossing the street so you don’t get hit by a car.”   


Anxiety looked suspicious, but as Logic spoke, he was slowly relaxing again. “And...and you think I’m _that_  anxiety?” he said. “The good kind?” 

Logic knew this was an important moment. He gulped nervously, wishing with all his heart that Dad were here. The moral side would know exactly what to say and do. 

But Dad _wasn’t_  here, so Logic would just have to do his best. So he looked into Anxiety’s eyes and said seriously: “I think you can be whatever you want to be, Anxiety.” 

Somehow, miraculously, it worked. Anxiety’s fear melted from his face, and he nodded once, looking determined. “Then I’ll be the good kind,” he said. “I want to be a good trait.” 

“Then you will be,” Logic said, relieved. _Crisis averted_. “Now. Can we go to sleep, please?”   


Anxiety smiled and nodded, settling back in against Logic’s shoulder, and curling an arm shyly over Logic’s chest. “Goodnight, Logic,” he said softly. 

Logic smiled, and let his own hand rest against Anxiety’s back.

“Goodnight, Anxiety,” he said. 

* 

P.S. This is Albie. Morality made him for Logic. 


End file.
